


letters from our tiny house

by emeraldsapphic



Category: Gandrew - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Aternate Universe - Pastel, Fluff, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pastel!Andrew, Punk!Garrett, Soft Boys, gay babies, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsapphic/pseuds/emeraldsapphic
Summary: the story of two polar opposites, finding each other and never letting go.
Relationships: Andrew Siwicki/Garrett Watts
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. i

i.

pretty boy, with the dessert eyes and the heavenly laugh.  
the one that lights up every room he walks in.  
the one that loves with his whole heart and cries with his whole soul.  
pretty boy, with the red hair and the bright smile.  
i want to play with his curls and hold him close to my heart.  
pretty boy.  
i want to watch him run in my garden, pick up the flowers and make flower crowns with his delicate fingers that he carefully paints every night.  
my pretty boy, my precious boy.

— G.


	2. ii

ii.

when he calls me pretty boy, my heart stops and i make such a fool of myself.  
angels are jealous of the way his words flatter me and spring is jealous of the colors my cheeks steal from the pretty roses in his garden.  
how can i make it up to him?   
what name should i give him?  
he’s the most beautiful thing i’ve seen in a while, though “pretty boy” doesn’t seem to suit him.  
(i am also very jealous of it).  
i love him. 

— A.


	3. iii

iii.

pretty boy came over today, he sat in between my garden gnomes, his hair matched their hats.  
he taught me how to make flower crowns.   
isn’t that adorable?  
he said he’s still thinking about a nickname for me, and that he is embarrassed whenever i call him pretty boy.   
but i can tell he likes it.  
he looked so small in his pink sweater, with the sleeves that are too long, and that he hides his hands in.  
is he ashamed of his nails?   
i’ll make a note to compliment him for them when i see him again.   
i love them. 

— G.


	4. iv

iv.

i went to his house again today, he wanted to show me his new pet mice.  
i would have never thought of him as the pet type, with his leather jacket and all (which turned out to be vegan!) but i shouldn’t be the one to judge.   
surprise number one.  
he complimented me on my nails.  
surprise number two.  
he looked at them before bringing my knuckles to his lips and brushing my hands with a soft kiss. surprise number three.  
i laughed away the blush on my cheeks and i dared to make fun of him.  
“you’re such a tough guy.” i told him, laughing.  
“only for my pretty boy.” he shut me up.   
i can’t help but burn when he calls me that.  
at least i finally found what name suits him.

— A.


	5. v

v.

pretty boy came over again, and i finally complimented him on his nails.  
he looked so happy i think my heart melted.  
he was made to carry happiness and happiness only.  
sadness will never touch him. i will make sure of that.  
he said he likes my music.  
never thought i’d see my pretty boy bop his head to artic monkeys.  
one day i’ll have him scream the lyrics to one of their songs with me.  
can’t wait to hold him tomorrow.

— G.


	6. vi

vi.

i have his scent on my clothes, the softness of his curls on my lips, the richness of his eyes in my soul, his shy smile in my heart.  
today i had him listen to my favorite song, he said he loved it.  
he closes his eyes whenever he concentrates, i noticed today.  
my precious pretty boy, soft and fragile like a flower.  
i want him to feel the safest he has ever felt, and that place is in between my arms.  
i just know it.

— G.


	7. vii

vii.

music in my ears, rhythm of my heart.  
dancing in the garden with the one you mostly love.  
under the stars, under the pressure of the spring breeze, admiration in softened eyes.  
tiptoes and arched backs, foreheads touching.  
kisses on the eyelids, on the temples, a brave peck on the nose.  
heartbeat mixing with the sound of breathing, somehow louder than the music around us.  
“i wanna be yours”  
simple words i have yet to say, but that i simply don’t need to.  
he already knows.  
i already am.

— A.


	8. viii

viii.

laying on the grass, sun shining on his closed eyelids, brown eyelashes merged together.  
flowers in his curls carefully placed. aesthetic hidden behind jokes.  
daisies.  
white, yellow, red.  
a blushed nose and constellation freckles.  
soft breaths, chest rising and falling, the comfort of knowing he’s there.  
his hand in mine, smooth skin brushing and gentle nail scratching.  
giggles and tickling.  
loving smiles, daring glances.  
lips i still want to discover.  
love i still need to share.  
we have time.

— G.


	9. ix

ix.

blond locks, cerulean eyes, pink lips i miss dearly.  
nails scratching on my forearm, shivers down my spine.  
chilling breeze from the approaching summer, freshness in my heart.  
he kissed me.  
softly, chastely, almost as he was afraid of breaking me.  
but could he break me?  
yes and no.  
he could never, but he has the power to.  
nights like this get me, sometimes, often, all the time.  
what if i can’t bring a smile to his face anymore?  
what if his eyes don’t light up the gold rim of his glasses anymore?  
what if his eyes don’t observe me quite as carefully next time?  
what if his lips don’t meet mine ever again?  
questions i wish i could answer.  
problems my own mind is creating.  
we’ll be fine.

— A.


	10. x

x.

dancing alone in the bathroom, tears and sweat mix together.  
melody in my veins, lyrics in my soul.  
the notes are helping my heart beat.  
what am i doing?   
who am i?  
“i wanna be your vacuum cleaner”  
a laugh is stuck in my throat.  
he’s not here.  
it’s fine.  
is it?  
perhaps this is too addictive.  
perhaps this isn’t right.  
perhaps this isn’t healthy.  
“if you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot.”  
i’ll do anything.  
i’ll be anything.  
but this isn’t right.  
can i really hold back my love?  
i don’t know how to love less, i don’t know what halfheartedly means.

— G.


End file.
